Black Bayou Burning
by T. F. Crosby
Summary: The Storm Hawks are on the hunt for a powerful crystal on a bayou laden terra and they need a guide. However, the only guide available is a former Cyclonian. While the team is reluctant to have him as a guide, he may be even more reluctant to be one.
1. Chapter 1

__

This is sort of a prequel to "Dark Storm Rising." It will explain some things that'll be coming up later on in "Dark Storm." I've taken some liberties with on particular character since he's only appeared in one episode and who knows if hell make a return. Because of this, I have a bit of leeway with him. He won't appear until the next chapter, but he is mentioned at the end of this one.

**-xxx-**

**Black Bayou Burning**

**Chapter One: Welcome To Barataria**

Stork sighed. Moments later, he sighed again. The first sigh was over Finn and Junko's usual—and very annoying—antics. The second sigh was over Piper; and a crystal; and a terra; and a plan; a plan to go to this terra to find this crystal. Sure it was a lot to sigh over, but it was a long and heavy sigh. _It was a Stork sigh_. And he had good reason to let out his very heavy sigh. At least, in his mind he did. However, both Piper and Aerrow would assure him that there was nothing to worry about.

_Yeah, right. Little do they know._

Piper laid the map out. It was a map of a single terra that hadn't been updated in decades. Not that it needed to be. There wasn't much to update. The terra had changed little since that particular map had first been drafted. And that was probably just as well with the people that lived there. The terra did not get many visitors; even the Cyclonians avoided the place. And so it remained free. It did have a Sky Knight, though it didn't really need one. Most people would avoid it entirely and those that did venture onto the terra would not step foot outside of the towns—Cyclonians included.

A loud screech tore Piper and Aerrow from the map. Stork, however, did not feel it necessary to remove his eyes from the proverbial "road."

"Sorry, Radarr," Finn said, looking up at the blue creature hanging from a light fixture.

"What did you do?" asked Aerrow.

"Stepped on his tail," the blond replied, diving onto Junko and knocking him over. Radarr let go of the light, landing on Finn's head.

"Would you two knock it off," Piper scolded. "We need to work out a plan. This isn't a terra you just go running around on."

Finn stared at the map. "Where exactly are we going?" he asked, as if the name of the terra were not on the map.

"Terra Barataria," Piper replied.

"_Terra Barataria?_ What the heck do we need that's on Terra Barataria?"

Piper stared at him. "Haven't you been listening?"

"No," Finn replied, nodding his head "yes."

The lone female let out an exasperated sigh. "We're looking for a crystal."

"Of course, we are," Finn said, beginning his retort before the navigator finished. She glared. "Let me guess, it's a special crystal," he continued, making air quotes as he said "special."

"Well, yeah," Aerrow said, answering for Piper.

"_And_…Master Cyclonis also wants this crystal, so we have to find it before she does." Finn took a deep breath. "And how do we know Cyclonis wants this crystal? _because_…Piper heard about it in someway, somewhere, at some point in time."

"Are you finished?" Piper said, slightly annoyed.

"Not, yet," said Finn. "And why does Cyclonis want this crystal…? Because it's 'special'," he finished, once again putting air quotes around _special_.

"I thought you weren't listening," said Junko.

Finn patted the Wallop on the arm. "Oh, Junko, Junko, Junko….This is the way it always goes."

Piper stared at them for a moment, then turned back to the map. Before she could speak Aerrow asked,

"What exactly does this crystal do?"

"Actually, I really don't know," the crystal specialist replied, slightly embarrassed.

"Well, that's helpful," Finn said. Piper elbowed him in the stomach. "Maybe I should stop standing next to Piper."

Aerrow smirked. "That'd probably be a good idea."

"Of course, he'll probably forget all about it and stand next to Piper again, say something inane again and be elbowed in the stomach—again."

They all looked at Stork, who still had his eyes on the particular path they were on—_more or less_, making various faces, which was ludicrous really. They were used to Stork's nonchalant remarks, but if they didn't give him weird looks he'd probably think there was something direly wrong with them…mind worms or something.

"Well, whatever this crystal does it must be pretty powerful if Cyclonis is after it," Aerrow said, getting back to the business at hand.

"It must be pretty powerful since no _sane_ person will step foot on that terra," added Finn. "Not even Cyclonians go there….Can't we just go to Tro—"

"No, Finn!" Piper yelled.

"Nobody here's sane," said Stork. "Why do you think _we're_ going?"

He had a point.

"How exactly are we going to find this crystal?" asked Junko.

"Yeah," said Finn. "What are we gonna do? Search every bayou."

"Well, those guys did say it was somewhere in the bayous." Piper grimaced. "Somewhere."

"Look, we'll figure it out when we get there," Aerrow said, nonchalantly.

"Well, you'd better hurry up," said Stork. "We're there."

"We can land in Port Allen," said Piper.

"Why do I get the feeling something horrible is going to happen while we're here," said Stork to no one in particular.

"'Cause that's usually the case," Finn retorted. "I'm surprised you're not used to it yet."

As the Condor descended onto an empty launch pad, Stork noticed his squad mates were still standing on the bridge.

"Uh, shouldn't you be heading to the hangar?"

"You're comin' with us," Aerrow said, slyly.

"Uh, no. I'm not."

"Uh, yes. You are," retorted Finn.

Stork completed the descent and then turned to his squad mates. They were all smiling. Smiling those smiles he hated so much. The ones that said, "you're coming whether you want to or not."

"Come on, Stork," Aerrow coaxed, much in the same way one would coax a dog out from its hiding place.

The Merb narrowed his eyes and then gave a defeated sigh. He wasn't going to win; he seldom did.

"Hey, maybe you'll meet some Merbs here," said Finn, obviously being facetious.

Stork ignored the facetiousness of the blond's remark and said, "Only if they have a death wish."

Finn grinned. "As in meeting you or being on Barataria?"

Stork gave him a flat look. "Both."

**-xxx-**

"Port Allen is Barataria's largest city. It's surrounded on all sides by the rest of the terra's towns with small bayous in between them; the towns are connected by bridges overlaying the bayous. While the majority of the population live in these towns, which lay north and west of the largest bayou, Black Bayou, there are many who live out in bayou country," Piper read to herself.

"It says the Black Bayou covers most of the south and the LeChene Bayou covers half the east," Piper said, reading from various pamphlets in the main office of the launchport. (They had to register the Condor in order to keep it being taken by anyone other than them.)

"Doesn't leave a whole lotta room for the towns," said Finn. "Especially with all those other bayous."

"The towns are built around the smaller bayous and a lot of the people live out in the Black and LeChene bayous," she said, reiterating part of what she had read to herself.

"What's all that at the bottom?" asked Aerrow, pointing to the bottom of the left page.

Piper read, "The bayous of Barataria, especially the Black and LeChene, should never be explored with out an experienced guide."

"Of course," Stork said to himself.

"So, where do we find a guide?" queried Junko.

They all looked at Aerrow. "We ask."

Piper put the pamphlets down and the group headed over to the information desk. Before they reached the desk, they were approached by a boy around their age.

"You lookin' fo' a guide?" he asked.

"Yeah," Aerrow answered. "How'd you know?"

"People dat bin here befo' don't go ovah to de info'mation desk," he said with a smile. "Dey jus' go where dey need ta go."

"So where can we find a guide?" asked Finn.

"Yo' best is ta head out ta Montillon," the teen replied. "Mos' people roun' here won't take no kids inta de bayous."

"How'd you know we wanted to go into the bayous?" queried Piper, curious as to how this kid knew so much.

"Uh, I ovaheard yo' convasation," he replied, looking a little guilty.

"Where is Montillon?" asked Aerrow, trying to move the conversation along.

"Down at de nort'east end of Black Bayou. I can take ya out der. I'm headin' dat way m'self."

"Great," said Aerrow. "Let's go."

Stork sighed as they followed the boy; whose name they learned was Leo, out to the launch pad. "And here we go," he said to himself.

They followed Leo to a small carrier. He had told them there was little point in taking their sky-rides. If they did manage to find a guide they wouldn't be able to take their rides out into the bayous, lest they get stuck. The only way to get through the bayous was on foot. And that wasn't necessarily any better.

**-xxx-**

The carrier was situated on the outskirts of Montillon. Hitting the first street, Leo pointed them in the direction of a small inn. "Don' worry. Dey prob'ly be askin' you," he said when Finn, for some reason, questioned him about asking for a guide through the bayous. "Trus' me. Dey gonna know when dey see you."

They parted ways, the Storm Hawks heading for the inn and Leo heading for, well…wherever. One thing Aerrow couldn't figure out was why Leo never bothered to ask _why_ they wanted to go into the bayous.

"Maybe he just didn't care," Finn suggested.

"Maybe. It just seems kinda weird."

"It may be weird," said Stork, "but wouldn't you rather have him _not_ pry?" He laughed nervously. "No telling what he might do. Besides, I don't trust that kid. There's something not right about him."

The rest of the group rolled their collective eyes. But Aerrow was wary of Leo as well. Not entirely sure why he was wary, he did feel that there was something a little _off _about the kid. However, he didn't want to worry his squad; so he kept it to himself and brushed it off.

"Come on, guys," said Aerrow, walking up to the inn's entrance. "There's only one way were gonna find a guide." _Why do I get the feeling this is gonna be a very long day?_

**-xxx-**

Finn strode lazily out the door with the rest of the Storm Hawks following. It was the fifth place they'd been to and no one would take them through the bayous. "Sorry, don't take kids."; "Sky Knight or not, don't take kids." No matter what they said, all they got in return was, "don't take kids."

"Man, this tanks," the sharpshooter said, kicking a stray piece of asphalt. "What's the big deal?"

"We have to keep trying, guys," Aerrow said. "We'll find someone to take us out there."

"You don't sound very optimistic, dude."

"They didn't even bother to ask us why we wanted to go out there," said Piper, sitting down on the curb.

Stork hadn't said much since they began their search and Junko was more interested in the Baratarian cuisine. Finn, Junko and Stork took a seat on the curb with Piper while Aerrow remained standing—and soon began pacing.

Looking down the street, he suddenly stopped when he saw someone he thought looked familiar. "It can't be."

"What can't be?" asked Piper.

"Come on, guys." Aerrow gestured for them to follow.

Stork rolled his eyes as they stood up to follow their Sky Knight. They had no clue as to what he was up to and Stork made it a point to say it was probably counterproductive to what they were supposed to be doing _and_ that it would probably lead to something horrible. Everyone ignored him.

"What are we doing?" asked Junko, feeling the need to whisper.

"We're following him," answered Aerrow, pointing to a man, probably in his early twenties, walking down a connecting street.

"And why are we following him?" asked Piper.

"I think I know him."

Stork had to throw in his two cents. "Isn't this considered _stalking_?"

"Uh…." Aerrow really didn't have an answer for that. At least, not one that would counter the Merb's point.

"Oo, let's go in here!" Junko suddenly yelled, making everyone jump.

"Junko!" everyone countered, except for Stork, who really didn't care—to say anything, that is.

And Junko didn't seem to care that the green Merb had climbed onto his back when he yelled.

Aerrow looked back down the street. The man they had been following was gone. "Great," said Aerrow, "we lost him."

"Come on, guys. Let's go in here," the Wallop said, reiterating his previous statement.

"Why?" asked Finn.

"Well, we're supposed to be looking for a guide, right?" "Right," said Finn, nodding. _How is it Junko's the one to stay on track?_

"There's a whole bunch of people in there and I think I see Starling."

"Starling?" _Is she looking for the crystal?_ Aerrow stepped up to the door of the …MacTavish Inn. _Of course, it's an inn. What else would it be? _He looked back at his squad. "You comin'?"

**-xxx-**

He stood in the shadows watching and listening (sort of) as Cyclonis spoke to the man in the tan duster. Dark Ace had never seen the man before and he was already finding the man to be rather disagreeable. He wasn't positive if the man was even Cyclonian; not native, anyway. Even though he spoke with the drawl of the terra's south, with the accent it was more likely he was from Barataria, or its neighboring terra of Odessa. But then again, what did he know. It's not like he ever paid attention to where people were from—or cared, for that matter. All Dark Ace knew for certain was that this man, who called himself Jaygen, was encroaching on his territory. This _did_ _not_ sit well with the Talon leader.

What exactly had possessed Cyclonis to send this pathetic beast to search the bayous of Barataria for this so-called _Seeker_ Crystal?

Dark Ace had little knowledge about crystals, the basics, primarily. He would have far more knowledge of crystals if he'd ever bother to learn. However, judging from the little he did know, he could say with utmost confidence that if Master Cyclonis was so fervent about finding this crystal as she had been about others, it had to be powerful.

_What exactly is this Seeker Crystal anyway?_

"The Seeker Crystal has one very special power," Cyclonis began, as if reading Dark Ace's mind. He wouldn't be surprised if she could—creeped out—but not surprised. (Although he believed that _all_ women could read minds, considering all the times he had been whapped by Ravess when he hadn't uttered a word. Thought it….) "And do you know what that is?"

Jaygen grinned and said, "Legend says that crystal can lead you to the Ethereal Stone."

_The Ethereal Stone_, Dark Ace thought. _You have got to be kidding._

The Ethereal Stone was a crystal of legend. Old stories say that the Ethereal Stone holds unfathomable power, far more power than the Aurora Stone. It is said that whosoever bears this crystal can control, destroy or save, the whole of Atmos at his very will. But stories can be corrupted over many years of telling. They can be heard wrong, misinterpreted. Because of this, most people don't believe it exists and Dark Ace stood among those people.

He scoffed at the idea when Cyclonis first brought it up, which may be a reason why she didn't select him to search for the Seeker Crystal. If it was, it didn't mean much. For whatever her reasons were, they would never leave her lips. Simply put: if she didn't want him to know, he wouldn't know. For the most part, it made no-never-mind to him. Let some insignificant heavy trudge through the treachery-laden swamps if they're so gung-ho about it. The Dark Ace he may be, but he had no desire to possibly become lunch for some swamp beast, or bayou beast, or whatever they called it.

Even so, her choosing a non-Talon for the job seriously ruffled this Talon's feathers.

"What's wrong Dark Ace?" she asked, coolly, after the man had left. "You don't approve of my choice?"

Dark Ace stepped out of the shadows into her line of sight, stone-faced.

"No. I don't," he replied, a remark that would have anyone else facing her wrath.

"Sounds like somebody's feathers are ruffled." He didn't reply, but simply remained stone-faced. "Don't worry," she continued,. "You'll be following him."

_Maybe she did trust this Jaygen less than he did_.

"He may be able to find the crystal, _but you Dark Ace_…." She pointed to him. "Will bring it to me."

He was unsure of what Cyclonis was implying when she made the remark, but it didn't matter.

**-xxx-**

The Storm Hawks watched in amusement as Starling argued with a man, probably in his late twenties, sitting at a table at the far end of the bar. She wanted him to take her into the bayous and he was refusing. They seemed to be evenly matched in their arguing and Aerrow wasn't sure if there was going to be a winner. Starling's back was turned to them and she was too busy arguing to notice that anyone had entered the inn. When she moved to the left, Aerrow noticed the insignia on the man's shoulder plate.

_A Sky Knight?_ Or at least a member of a squadron.

Aerrow walked up next to Starling. He stopped, not saying a word, and watched. He would probably get whacked, but he was a fourteen year old boy and he couldn't help it. He smiled broadly as he listened to their back and forth banter.

"You know, you coulda jus' argued that Repton to det," the presumed Sky Knight said.

Starling glared.

Apparently the conversation, or argument, had gone beyond the bayous.

"Maybe you should intervene," suggested Piper.

"No way. I'm enjoying this," said Finn, grinning.

Piper elbowed him.

"Hey, Starling," Aerrow nearly shouted.

Startled, Starling swung her arm around, smacking Aerrow in the face. "Aerrow! I'm so sorry," she apologized, emphatically.

"Obviously, you two know each othah, so I'm gonna go," the Sky Knight said, making a quick exit.

"Where do you think you're going?" she yelled after him. It was in vain, however. The man was gone in seconds. Starling sighed.

"No luck, huh," Aerrow said.

"No," she replied. "Apparently, you haven't had any luck, either."

She didn't have to ask why they were there. It was a given. They, too, were after the crystal.

"I can't understand why no one will act as a guide," said Starling, a little miffed.

Aerrow shrugged. "You got me."

"All they say to us is, 'I don' take kids out der'," said Finn, in his best Cajun accent. "And that's the only reason they give us."

"But that doesn't explain why Starling's being refused," said Piper.

"Dey refuse 'cuz dey scared to go out der," said a voice, seeming to come out of nowhere. "Dey know what you lookin' fo'." An old, dark-skinned man was now standing next to Starling. "Dat boy dat jus' lef', he ain' gonna help. He got too much to do. No good askin' a Wild Card."

"A Wild Card?" Aerrow said, wide-eyed. "You mean that was…?"

"Dat's right. Dat be Remy. Sky Knight o' Barataria." He paused, grinning. "Howevah, I do know someone dat will help."

"Really?" said Starling, a little skeptical. "Who?"

The old man laughed. "You jus' take yo'selves down to Black Bayou Tave'n and ask fo' Hamish. Jus' tell de boy Emile sen' ya. He help you."

Aerrow and Starling looked at each other. What did they have to lose?

When they exited the inn, a dark-skinned woman wearing a handkerchief covering her head came over to the man and whacked him on the back of the head.

"Emile Duchesne!"

"Now what you wan', Woman?"

"Why cain't you leave dat po' child alone? He got enough problems wit' out you sendin' someone to bot'er him 'bout dem bayous."

"Dat boy need to move on," said Emile. "He ain' no Talon no mo'. Dat ain' all he ain' no mo', eit'er."

**-xxx-**

So, there's chapter one. I've patterned Barataria after Louisiana ('cause Louisiana is AWESOMW!). It also makes finding the crystal more interesting with all the bayous.

I won't be posting anything else until the end of the week. I won't have access to my computer until Wednesday. That's all I can think of to say. Hope you enjoyed. Reviews are appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

For my only reviewer Nakedmolerat05, who also helped me come up with the name for Terra Odessa's Sky Knight squadron.

**-xxx-**

**Chapter Two: The Bird and the Dog**

Starling was the first to enter the Black Bayou Tavern with Aerrow and the rest of the Storm Hawks following. They stopped just inside; there was hardly a soul in the place.

"Well, this place is jumpin'," Finn said, off-handed.

"That name," Aerrow said. "I know that name."

"Do you know this Hamish person?" asked Starling.

"I think. That name's just…." He paused. "Wait a minute…. That was the name of Mr. Moss' right hand man."

Starling gave him a quizzical look.

"He was imprisoned on Zartacla," said Finn. "So we could rescue the prisoners."

"Do you think it's him?" asked Starling.

Aerrow shrugged. He walked up to the bar and asked the barkeeper for Hamish. The man pointed to a table a few away from where they were standing. They looked to see a golden-haired man in a ball cap alone at the table, asleep. The group walked over to the table; Aerrow walked around to get a look at his face.

"It's him."

"Is it really a good idea to ask him?" said Piper, an air of caution in her voice. "I mean he is…or was…."

"Don't worry, Piper," assured Aerrow. "From what I saw when I was on Zartacla, he's harmless. And not real bright." He made the last statement ashamedly.

Chuckles rose from the barkeeper and the tavern's few patrons.

"Why are they laughing?" said Finn. "That seems kinda mean."

Starling studied the tavern's patrons. "I don't think that's what they're laughing at," she said. "I believe they were laughing at Aerrow for making the comment."

Finn looked at her in confusion. "Huh?"

"Aerrow's observations of Hamish are apparently false," she clarified.

"Ya got that right." A man donning a black cowboy hat took a seat at the table next to the snoozing Hamish. "Ya know the old sayin' 'appearances can be deceivin'?"

The man picked up the empty mug sitting next to Hamish's head. He took a whiff. "Dang, boy. How many of these did you drink?" he said, staring at the mug.

After he set the mug back down Finn picked it up and took a whiff for himself. "Whoa! What is the stuff?" It didn't smell bad, just potent. _Very potent_.

Radarr decided to take a whiff, too. He jumped onto Finn's shoulder and stuck his nose into the mug. The rabbit-dog grimaced as Finn put the glass back down.

"Strongest ale on Atmos. Boy ain't no light-weight, that's fer dang sure," the cowboy replied.

"Moving on," said Aerrow, not caring for the alcoholic beverage. "If what I saw on Zartacla is false, then what's the truth?"

"Boy's about as harmless as a rabid track-beast. Not a good idea to corner him. Damn intelligent, too. Had 'em all fooled on Zartacla. Makin' ol' Mossy think he didn't know nothin' 'bout trackin'." He looked at Aerrow and in a very serious tone said, ""Yer damn lucky, son. If he really were Cyclonian and workin' fer Moss, you wouldn't be standin' here. Now ah ain't sayin' you'd be dead, but you definitely wouldn't've made it off Zartacla."

The redhead could only stare at the man. Was this the same Hamish he saw on Zartacla? The Sky Knight was almost to afraid to know any more.

As the cowboy spoke, Stork began making nervous sounds. Junko had discovered the tavern's signature Mudbug Stew and was busy eating, while the others were listening intensely. (Hamish hadn't twitched once since the cowboy started talking.)

"He's conniving, deceptive," the cowboy continued, "and very dangerous."

"So, he's not safe?" Piper said, nervously.

More chuckles rose from the small crowd (which had grown slightly since the Storm Hawks arrived) in the tavern.

"Of course he's not safe," the cowboy laughed, as the group around him anxiously scanned the room. "He's downright deadly. That's why the Wild Cards sent him in." Finn was confused and his confusion was spreading to the others. "Hamish has no qualms about getting into dangerous situations. Some would say he's got a death wish. The Wild Cards were set on freeing the prisoners, but they also had somethin' else on their agenda and needed to infiltrate, gather information. Yer little unexpected plan nearly ruined it, but Hamish was able to use it to his advantage. All he had to do was keep playin' dumb. You ended up savin' him alotta trouble."

"So that whole thing on Zartacla was just a ruse," said Aerrow. "He knew the whole time." He shook his head in disbelief.

"He knows who ya are." The cowboy laughed. "If only ol' Mossy had figured that boy out before you came along, he wouldn' uh lost all them prisoners." His tone changed to a more staid one. "Unfortunately he was found out before he made it back here. He made a mistake, slipped up. Barely got off Zartacla alive."

"What happened to him?" asked Junko.

"Don't know," the cowboy answered. "He refuses ta talk about it."

Starling had moved over towards their new cowboy friend while he spoke. She stared at Hamish. He looked no older than sixteen, but it was obvious to her he was much older; probably older than her. He looked so angelic. It was hard to believe that he could possibly what the cowboy said he was.

_Appearances really can be deceiving_, she thought. _Very deceiving._

"Just out of curiosity," said Piper. "How old is he? He looks like he's sixteen."

The cowboy smiled. "Don't let that baby face fool ya. He's twenty-three, be twenty-four next week." Noticing the look on Starling's face he added, "He may be conniving and deceptive, but there's a lot more to him than that. He's extremely loyal and protective to those he loves and love him. He'd lay down his life for them. Given the chance, he'd be the greatest friend anyone could have.

"Even so, most people cain't look past the deviousness. A lotta people hate him. Prob'ly one of the reasons he took on the mission in the first place."

_Man, this's crazy,_ Aerrow thought. _I guess you really can't judge a book by its cover._

"He doesn't have any family here. No blood kin, anyway."

"You done talkin' 'bout me, Austin?" said a voice familiar to Aerrow.

His right eye was open, seemingly looking at Austin, but in reality looking past him at Starling. She stared back into a dull, forest-green eye.

"How long you been listenin', boy?"

"Since you started sayin' all that sappy crap 'bout me," replied Hamish, his head still laying on his folded arms and his eye still on Starling. "I'm su'prised ya haven't gotten to my nickname yet."

"Nickname?" Starling raised an eyebrow. Hamish smiled at her.

"So his name's Austin," Finn said to himself, paying little attention to everyone else.

Austin let out a big belly-laugh. "Around here we call him Black Velvet."

Nobody said anything. Finn wanted to make a comment; but after what he heard about the golden-blond, he was afraid to. All the Storm Hawks seemed to be.

"What's wrong?" said Hamish. "To chicken to say anythane?" He smirked. "Maybe you should tell 'em _why_ I'm called that."

Austin ignored him and picked up the mug again. "How many of these did you drink, boy?"

"Only three," replied Hamish with a laugh.

He closed his eye and started to drift off. Austin made a fist and placed it under the table directly below Hamish's head—and slammed his fist into the table, jolting the golden-haired man. (And making everyone around the table jump.)

"Wake up, boy," the cowboy said as Hamish sat up, rubbing his eyes and yawning. "Ya got guests."

"Let me guess, Emile sent ya," said Hamish in an annoyed tone.

"Well, yeah," replied Aerrow shortly. "How'd you know?"

Austin decided to answer. "Because Emile's the only one who's got a death wish as big as Hamish does."

"I'm gonna kill that old man," Hamish said to himself. "Damned fool cain't leave me alone." He stood up, kicking his chair back. He looked at his "guests" and said, "No."

Mumbling something under his breath, he walked over the bar and sat down on the stool closest to the door. Starling huffed and followed him over to the bar, leaving the Storm Hawks in the company of Austin.

"He's not going to help," said Stork, speaking for the first time since they stepped into the tavern. "We might as well just go now."

Austin looked over at the bar. Starling had taken a seat next to Hamish. "Ah don't think he's gonna have much of a choice." The Storm Hawks looked over at the bar. "He'll keep refusin', but I get the feelin' she ain't gonna let up on him until he agrees ta take y'all out there."

Aerrow smirked. "She is persuasive."

Hamish leaned into the bar; his arm bent and his head resting on his hand.

"What'll it be, Gator?" the barkeeper asked. "Another ale?"

"Nah," replied Hamish. "Make it a draft…Nellis."

"Make it two."

The barkeeper grinned at the young woman taking a seat next to his favorite customer. "Two Nellis' comin' up."

Starling leaned into the bar, staring at Hamish who was blatantly ignoring her.

"Dude, since when does Starling drink? Is she even old enough?" said Finn to no one in particular.

"The legal drinking age varies from terra to terra, Finn," Piper informed. "Maybe she did before we met her."

"There's no legal drinking age here," said Austin. "But ya hafta be twenty-one to purchase it. Of course, that doesn't mean you can go around buyin' it for kids. Not that we have a problem with that."

"Besides, we don't know how old Starling is," added Aerrow.

"I'd say…twenty-two, twenty-three, maybe," Finn surmised.

"Hamish'll buy anyway," said Austin.

The barkeeper sat two cold, clear bottles filled with a soft-amber liquid in front of them.

"Thanks, Shayne," Hamish said, dryly. Shayne stared at him, motioning towards Starling. "Huh? Oh, yeah…just put it on my tab." He sounded as if he were about to fall back asleep.

"Um, thanks," said Starling, unsure if it was done of his own free will or if he was somehow persuaded to do so by Shayne.

"Don't mention it…." He took a swig of his beer. "So, why do you want the crystal? Them I get," he said, motioning towards the Storm Hawks. "But you…."

"I have my reasons," she replied, flatly.

"Of course, you do," he said, just as flatly as she did.

They sat in silence, finishing their beer. Starling was only halfway through while Hamish was ready to order another, or perhaps something stronger.

"Maybe you should eat somethin' first," said Shayne, leaning on the bar.

"I ate breakfast," replied Hamish, pushing the empty bottle towards Shayne.

"And when was that?" said Starling, amused with Hamish's response.

"Seven-ish."

Starling gave him a scolding look, which he ignored. "It's four-thirty now."

Hamish looked at her, grinning. "Half-past drinkin' time and time to drink again."

Starling rolled her eyes and sighed heavily. "Fantastic. I can't believe the only one capable of taking me to find the crystal is a bloody alcoholic."

"Never on Sundays," said Hamish in a mock thoughtful way. "I like to stay clean on that day."

He turned back when he heard a clunk on the bar. Shayne had set a bowl of stew down in front of him.

"Eat," ordered Shayne.

"Yes, Sir, Mister Conklin, Sir," Hamish replied, giving Shayne a mock-salute. The barkeeper smacked him on the back of the head. Starling snickered.

"What is that?" she asked.

"Mudbug Stew," Hamish replied with a mouth full of food.

"Right….What are mudbugs?"

"Crawfish," answered Shayne.

Hamish pushed the empty bowl back towards Shayne. "There I ate. Happy now?"

Shayne just grinned, taking the bowl. Hamish mumbled something under his breath as he stood up. "I'm outta here," he said, heading towards the door. He stopped, looked back at Starling, grinned at her, and walked out of the tavern.

"I'm going to throw this at him," said Starling, holding the bottle.

The door slammed behind him, drawing the attention of the group at the table.

"Looks like our boy decided to go home," the cowboy said.

Starling walked back over to the table and slumped into a chair. She glared at Austin. "Where does he live?"

Austin grinned. "We'll wait a few hours. He'll probably stop somewhere on the way home."

"You know what would be funny," Finn said, "if Starling was waiting for him when he got home." The others stared at him. "What?"

"You know something Finn," said Starling, "_that_ is a good idea." She grabbed Austin's arm.

"I'm starting to feel sorry for the guy," said Aerrow as Starling and Austin left the tavern.

"Don't be," said Shayne. Aerrow looked over at the bar. "That boy needs it."

**-xxx-**

He had stopped at a sports bar; had a few beers; got into a brawl; and was dragged home by the old man who loved nothing more than to irritate him to no end.

Emile cackled as he brought the young brawler up the steps to the front door. "What're you cacklin' for, old man?" said the bloody Hamish.

"Oh, you see soon," Emile replied with glee, walking away.

"Hamish leaned his head against the door. "I hate my life."

He opened the door (which he usually left unlocked because only somebody with a death wish, like Emile. would ever bother coming near his home) and stepped in.

"Well, at least I don't hafta clean occucrow cages or feed track-beasts anymore." He paused in the entryway after kicking the door shut. "On second thought," he continued, thinking about earlier, ""that actually sounds appealing." He paused again, thinking about Zartacla. "I take that back." He walked through the entryway, past the living room and into the kitchen. "No, wait. It's definitely a toss-up," he said, loudly, seeing Austin sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of coffee. "I never once said to you, 'make yourself at home,' and yet, you do it anyway! You're almost as bad as Emile!"

"I ain't the only one here," Austin said, nonchalantly.

Hamish grimaced when he heard a door open. "No. Please, no." He closed his eyes, standing perfectly still as footsteps drew closer to him. "Somebody kill me."

"Wasn't my idea," said Austin, just sitting there at the kitchen table as if he lived there.

"Yes, but you evidently had no problem obliging," Hamish growled.

"She's very persuasive." Austin grinned.

Hamish had a comment for him about how he was much older and supposedly stronger and would easily have the upper-hand; however he said something else instead. "You delight in tormenting me, dontcha?"

Austin's grin grew wider. Hamish knew what the cowboy was thinking. "It's time to move on, boy," Austin said. "You cain't keep livin' like this."

"Watch me," Hamish hissed.

"That's exactly what I've been doin' since…." Austin trailed off as Hamish shot him a glare.

Hamish looked back at Starling. The look on her face said it all. He wanted to say something, but he knew that every thought that ran through his mind would make him sound like an ass if he said any of them. And that would only make him look worse to Starling.

_Of course, she may already think I am_.

He shot another glare at Austin, then slumped into a chair. "So, what did Captain Cain't-Keep-My-Mouth-Shut tell you?"

Starling snickered at the name. As much as he didn't want to, her snickering made him grin. She sat down next to him.

"Ya know," Austin began, "you really oughtta get cleaned up, boy. That slice on your noggin's still bleedin'." He grinned at Starling.

"Right," she said with a sly grin. Hamish was now completely zoned-out. "Where do you keep your First Aid supplies?"

"There's a kit under the sink." The sentence was out before he realized what he was saying. "Aw, man." He grumbled under his breath.

"Well, then," she said, standing up. "It's time to get all that blood off of your face."

"I'd turn tail and run," Hamish said, "but I'm too tired."

"Suck it up, boy."

**-xxx-**

It was safe to say that Austin enjoyed every moment of watching Starling clean-up Hamish's cut-up and bloody face. It took her nearly an hour to clean off the blood and patch up his cuts and scrapes. The whole ordeal would have gone a lot faster—and a lot smoother—had Hamish simply sat still and let Starling do what needed to be done. There was much yelling (by both of them); some cursing (by Hamish); a lot of squirming (by Hamish); the spouting of insults (by both of them); and threats to Hamish's well-being (by Starling, of course).

After all was said and done, Hamish was a very unhappy camper, sitting in the chair with his arms folded across his chest and a frown on his face. Starling had a very big smirk on her face, rather pleased with her work.

Austin burst into laughter. He had a number of comments floating around in his head, but was laughing to hard to get any of them out.

"Now," Starling said with a smirk, "you go take a shower, put on some clean clothes and while you're doing that, I'll make something for us to eat."

Without giving what she had said a thought, he stood up and headed for the bathroom. Austin watched him walk out, trying to hold back his snickering. He looked at Starling.

"Three, two, one…."

"Gah!" Hamish yelled just outside of the kitchen. "I can't believe this!"

Austin let out a huge guffaw. "She's known ya less than half a day…." He took a deep breath, wiped a tear from his eye and continued, "and she's already got ya whipped."

"Shut up!" Hamish yelled.

But taking a shower did sound good. However, there was no way he was going to admit that to _her_. He mumbled something to the two at the table, though they could guess as to what was said. And it was something that was best left unrepeated.

**-xxx-**

Finn sat at the table near the bar, furthest from the door, yawning. Radarr was sitting on his shoulder, also yawning. It was getting late and the team needed to find a place to stay. Junko was sitting across from Finn, yawning as well. There were still a few patrons in the tavern, although the consumption of alcohol seemed to have ceased. Those that remained were either eating or simply talking. And those that did have beverages were either drinking water or tea. Stork sat at the end of the bar near the table, leaning onto the bar, his chin resting on his hand.

Aerrow walked over to the barkeeper, whom Austin referred to as Shayne, wanting a few questions answered.

"If yer lookin' for a place ta stay, I've got plenty of rooms here," Shayne said as Aerrow approached. "Free of charge."

"Uh, thanks," Aerrow replied as Piper walked up next to him and took a seat.

"Now, what can I get fer ya?" he asked the two Storm Hawks. "It's on the house."

"I'd like a glass of water and some of that Mudbug Stew," Piper said.

"How 'bout you, son?"

"I'll have the same," Aerrow answered.

"Comin' right up."

Piper nudged the redhead as he stared at the back of the bar. "What?" he said in a whisper.

"Ask him when he gets back," she whispered back.

"Ask him what?"

"About Hamish."

"What about Hamish?"

"Ask Shayne why he's called 'Black Velvet'."

Junko walked over to his two companions at the bar and whispered, "Why are you whispering?"

The Sky Knight looked up at him and replied at a normal level, "I don't know."

When Shayne returned with Aerrow and Piper's stew, Junko asked, "Hey, why do they call Hamish 'Black Velvet'? I don't get it?"

"The barkeeper smiled. "Let me start by asking you guys a question. What was yer initial impression of him?"

"Well," Aerrow began, "when I was on Zartacla, I thought he was kind of a doofus. He didn't seem to be very bright."

"He seems okay to me," said Junko, thoughtfully.

"He doesn't seem very personable," Piper added.

"Well, that is kinda our fault," the Wallop returned. "I mean…."

"He's an alcoholic," Finn blurted out, cutting Junko off.

"I don't trust him," Stork said, flatly. The guy gives me the heebie-jeebies."

Shayne couldn't help grinning at all the reactions. This group of pups had no idea what they were in for.

"What's the deal with this guy?" Aerrow said, after taking a few bites of his stew. "Austin told us a lot of stuff, but…."

"It's all true," Shayne said. "For the most part."

"For the most part?" Stork reiterated, raising an eyebrow.

"Austin did leave out a few things."

"Like what?" Finn said. "That he's an_ alcoholic_."

"Finn!" If Piper had been anywhere close to the blond he would have had her elbow in his gut.

"What? I was just making an observation."

Shayne chuckled. "Actually, he doesn't drink all that much. You kids just happened to catch him on a rare day."

"Rare day?" Aerrow queried.

"Ya see," said Shayne, "Hamish ain't some random guy the Wild Cards picked up off the street and hired to do some work fer 'em. There's a lot of things you don't know about Hamish and a lot of those things he doesn't want ya ta know." He sighed. "Not even I know everythin' about him."

"Okay, so what do you know that Austin didn't tell us?" asked Aerrow.

"Hamish was part of a Sky Knight squadron before he took the job with the Wild Cards."

"So, he was never actually a part of the Wild Cards," said Aerrow.

"No…."

Then who was he with?" asked Piper.

"Hamish is from Odessa."

"But Odessa doesn't have a Sky Knight," Finn said. "Their whole squadron was wiped out over a year ago."

"Not the whole squadron," Shayne replied, wiping down the bar.

"So, you're saying Hamish was part of Odessa's squadron," Finn surmised.

"Hamish was more than just a part of the Sugarland Curs," Shayne said, leaning onto the bar.

Aerrow smirked and said something that sounded like it should have come from Finn, rather than him. "What? Was he their Sky Knight?"

Shayne sighed.

"Whoa!" Junko said, wide-eyed. "He's a Sky Knight."

"Not anymore," Shayne replied. "As he says."

"Not anymore…." Aerrow repeated. "Why?"

"He lost his entire squadron, Aerrow," said Piper.

"That would explain the alcohol," said Finn. "I hope." Radarr chattered in accord.

"He blames himself for what happened."

"What happened?" asked Aerrow.

Shayne looked at all the Storm Hawks before settling his eyes on the young Sky Knight. "You know as a Sky Knight you have ta make big decisions and those decisions, on occasion, are literally a matter of life and death. And those particular decisions need to be made quickly."

"Yeah…."

"And you can only hope that whatever decision you make, it's the right one."

"And Hamish had to make one of those decisions," said Aerrow soberly.

"Yeah, he did," said Shayne. "And it cost his squad their lives." The barkeeper paused. "And it almost cost him his own."

"Is that why he's not a Sky Knight anymore?" asked Junko.

"It's one of the reasons," replied Shayne.

They were silent for a moment before Finn asked, "So, what are the other reasons?"

**-xxx-**

Yeah, I really don't have anything productive to say. I'm not going to ask for any reviews since most of you won't review anyway. I'm gonna go hang-out with the Sub Zeroes.


	3. Chapter 3

_Finally! An update! No title for this chapter. Couldn't think of one. Anyway, enjoy._

**Chapter 3**

Hamish leaned against the front door. "I thought that man would never leave." Starling stared at him, smiling. "What're you smilin' at?"

"Nothing," she said, trying to hold back a snicker. "Nothing at all."

Hamish stared back. "Yeah, that's believable."

"How long have you known him?"

"Too long," he replied with an exasperated sigh. "Look, I'm sorry fer earlier. It's jus' not a good…."

"I know," she said softly.

"Right…Austin told ya." He walked out of the entryway, into the living room and sat down on the couch. Starling followed. "So…what'd all he tell ya?"

"Everything he didn't get to say back at the tavern," she answered, sitting down next to him. "And now that I know, it's probably just as well."

"Yeah, well, Shayne's prob'ly tellin' 'em."

"Everything?"

"No. There're some things he won't…because I asked him not to." They sat in silence for a moment before Hamish continued. "Although I'm sure he's tellin' 'em that—"

"You're a Sky Knight," Starling finished.

"It's my fault they're gone," he said, lowering his head. "How could I have been so stupid? I knew those rogues were there, but I—"

"Stop! Just stop," Starling said, grabbing his arm. "From what I heard you didn't have much of a choice. And as far as I understand it, they were not just any rogues."

"They called themselves the Raven's Blood. Not even the old Storm Hawks woulda been a match fer 'em." He looked at Starling. "Thanks fer makin' dinner. If it'd just been me, I woulda been eatin' cereal." Starling snickered. "Yer welcome ta stay here. There's plenty of room."

She smiled at him. "You're welcome and thank you."

"There's towels in the closet at the end of the hallway if ya wanna take a shower."

He assumed she was thinking about something as she didn't answer. He turned his head away from her, staring off to his right into the corner of the room. They sat in silence, off in their own worlds. Hamish glanced back at her, but quickly turned his head when he noticed she was staring at his face. He suddenly felt a tingling sensation in his left arm, causing his whole body to twitch.

"Uh, Starling?" he said, still looking away.

"Yes," she replied softly.

"Never mind," he said, closing his eyes. He was positive she was completely unaware of what she was currently doing. She still had ahold of his left forearm with her left hand and was now running the fingers of her right hand up and down his forearm. A smile suddenly came to his face. He turned back to her. "Starling?"

"Yes?" she replied.

He looked down at her hands. "Could you, uh…."

She followed his gaze and her cheeks immediately went pink when she realized what she had been doing. She let go of his arm and quickly turned around.

"I…I think I'll go take a shower," she said, making a dash for the bathroom.

When the bathroom door closed, Hamish fell over, covering his face with a pillow. He had turned a few shades of pink himself. "I'm not, I'm not, I'm not…gonna fall for her," he repeated to himself. "No, no, no, no, no…. I need a drink." He tossed the pillow aside and headed for the kitchen.

He stood beside the table, staring at the cabinets. Great. I can't remember where I put it." He rubbed his right temple. "Oh, right." He turned around to face the cabinet on the opposite wall. He dug behind the sodas on the top shelf. "There you are." He pulled out a small, glass bottle filled with a clear liquid. He grinned. "Pure Odessa whiskey."

He walked into the sitting room just off the kitchen and slumped into the couch. He let his left arm hang over the side and leaned his head back. He popped the cap off and brought the glass container to his lips, taking a long drink. Drank straight it was the strongest liquor in Atmos; it topped the tavern's ale by a long shot. It was not to be mixed with any kind of medication or any other hard liquor. He learned that the hard way.

He stared at the ceiling. "Why me?"

* * *

Starling looked into the bathroom mirror, brushing her hair, glad that she and Austin had stopped at the inn she had been staying at to pick-up her belongings and check-out. Initially, she had thought the man was full of it when he had said Hamish would let her stay at his home. But the cowboy, evidently, was right. Unsure of what room she should stay in, she decided to leave her bag in the bathroom and go ask Hamish. Austin had said that Hamish wouldn't care (The cowboy had even made the comment that Hamish wouldn't care if she slept in his bed. She did not want to think about what Austin was implying by that.), but she knew it was best to be polite and ask. Any of the rooms could be "off-limits" to guests. She wasn't about to do anything stupid. She knew little about him and what she did know didn't give her much idea of his true personality.

She sighed as she walked down the hallway towards the living room. _What was she getting herself into?_ She glanced into the living room. _Not there._ She headed into the kitchen. "It's cold in here," she said to herself.

Walking into the kitchen, she noticed the doors to the sitting room were open—and Hamish sitting on the couch with a bottle of alcohol of some kind. _Why am I not surprised? _She walked into the sitting room, stopped at the end of the couch and stared at him. He looked over at her.

"You gonna jus' stand there?" She glared at him briefly, then sat down at the end of the couch. He took another drink and looked at her again. Noting her pajamas were of long sleeves and pants he said, "Cold?"

"A little," she replied.

"Sorry," he said sincerely. "Having to run the cooler during the day and the heater at night gets kinda expensive."

"That's okay. It is easier to warm up than it is to cool off." Starling's eyes darted around the room in the awkward silence. After a few minutes her eyes rested back on Hamish.

Feeling her eyes on him he said, "What?"

"I was wondering which room…."

"Doesn't matter," he said, cutting her off.

She wasn't going to say anything about the comment Austin had made, but as he brought the bottle to his lips, she couldn't stop herself. "Austin said you wouldn't even care if I slept in your bed."

She had said it just the liquid began its journey down his throat. The thought activated his gag reflex. His eyes widened as the whiskey came back up, out his mouth and all over his shirt. He started coughing, nearly dropping the bottle. He glared at her, wiping his mouth with his shirt.

"Dang, Woman! You tryin' to kill me?"

She tried desperately to hold back her laughter, but failed miserably. He stood up and walked into the kitchen, setting the bottle down on the counter. The front of his shirt was saturated with whiskey.

"Great," he grumbled—along with a few other choice words—pulling off his shirt.

"I'm sorry," Starling laughed. "I couldn't resist." She got up and walked into the kitchen.

"You're hilarious," he replied, walking behind the sitting room and into the laundry room. He looked around for a clean shirt. "_Of course_…. For the first time in my life all my clean shirts are actually _in my room_." "What are you mumbling about?" she said, walking into the laundry room.

"Great," he said under his breath, his back turned to her. "Now she's gonna—"

"Oh, my—" She stopped dead in her tracks. "What happened to you?"

His back was covered with scars, obviously caused by a whip. He didn't utter a word nor did he move. He sighed and laid his hand on the washing machine.

"I screwed up," he said softly.

"What do you mean?"

"I did somethin' stupid." He turned to face her. His chest and torso were also covered with scars. He walked out of the laundry room and back into the kitchen. He stopped at the counter and fingered the bottle of whiskey.

Starling walked up beside him and looked at the bottle. "You were caught drinking."

"Me and a few of the off-duty guards decided to play _Shots _ta kill some time. I over did it."

"You got drunk."

"Yeah, but it wasn't the drinking or the fact that I got drunk that got me inta trouble."

He walked back into the sitting room and sat down at the far end of the couch. Starling followed, sitting down next to him. He leaned over, resting his arms on his knees, his head down.

"What was it that got you into trouble?" she asked, laying her hand on his back.

"Apparently, I was so plastered I blurted out my true reasons fer bein' there. The guards I was drinkin' with were just as plastered as I was, but I confessed just as some of the other guards walked by.

"I don't remember any of it. All I do remember is waking up in a cell confused with one hell of a hangover."

* * *

_Hamish groaned. His head was pounding and he felt sick to his stomach; he didn't want to open his eyes. Lying quietly on his bed with his eyes shut was—wait! This didn't feel like his bed. Maybe it was just him. He opened an eye. Say what? He slowly sat up, his stomach churning. Just as his eyes caught sight of the sink and toilet, the contents of his stomach made their way up his esophagus. He dashed for the porcelain bowl, making it just in time. When he finished heaving, he flushed the toilet (which sounded a lot louder than it should have) and slowly stood up, using the sink for leverage._

_"What the hell happened last night?" he said to himself._

_"Well, Son," said a familiar voice. Mr. Moss. Hamish hadn't heard him approach. "Seems as though you made a little confession last night." The warden opened the door. "Now hearin' you were…besotted…at the time, I was hopin' it was all just crazy talk. But then some of my boys did a little diggin'. Come to find out all yer babblin' was true."_

_Hamish rubbed his temples. The warden's voice was ringing through his head. 'I feel like my bell's been seriously rung,' he thought._

_"Now, Son, I don't want—"_

_"Look," Hamish interrupted, "whatever yer plannin' on doin' ta me, could ya at least wait 'til I'm over this hangover."_

_Mr. Moss sighed. As he turned to leave he said, "I really like you, Son. I ain't lyin' 'bout that." He walked out, closing the door behind him and locking it._

_Hamish laid back down on the bed and placed his hands on his face. "How could I have been so stupid?" He silently cursed himself._

_Now what? He could bust out and take Moss' heli-scooter, but ever since that kid busted out and escaped the terra, escape had become near impossible. The walls had been reinforced and the terra was constantly being swept for any sky-rides—and even ships—that may have crashed somewhere in the forest._

_"Lousy Storm Hawk," he grumbled._

_He had not been punished for the loss of all the prisoners; however, there was no telling what was going to happen to him for this. He may end up staying in prison, be physically punished—tortured—or even executed._

_The door opened again. Hamish removed his hands from his face; a guard was looming over him._

_"Here," he said, handing Hamish a small, blue and white bottle and a cup._

_"What's this?"_

_"It'll get rid of yer hangover," the guard said, walking out._

_Hamish smirked, holding up the bottle. "Looks like it'll either be torture or execution. Maybe even both." He stood up and walked over to the sink. "I gotta pee."_

_He heard footsteps approaching but they went on past his cell. Sighing, he flushed the toilet, which still sounded louder than it should have. After washing his hands he filled the cup up and sat it down on the sink. He picked up the small, blue and white bottle and stared at it, jiggling it. "This better work."_

_After taking the pills, which he nearly gagged on, he laid back down on the bed. Within minutes, he was asleep._

_Hamish awoke to the sound of his creaking cell door. He opened a dull, forest-green eye. Two guards hovered over him._

_"Whada ya want?" he drawled._

_"Git up and git dressed," one said._

_He didn't recognize either one of them. 'Must be new,' he thought._

_"Why?" Hamish replied, slowly sitting up. "Am I goin' somewhere special?" They glared at him. "Alright. Jus' tryin' ta make conversation." He walked over to the toilet. He could feel the guards staring at him; he looked back at them. "Do ya mind?"_

_The guards rolled their eyes. "Just hurry up."_

_Hamish pulled his shirt on and then sat down to put his boots on. "I'm startin' to wish I was still drunk."_

_The cell door opened again. Hamish stood up as one of the guards entered. He shoved Hamish out of the cell and into the wall, nearly making him fall to the ground. "What the hell was that fer?" he growled._

_The guard ignored him._

_Move it!" the other barked._

_Hamish stood unmoving, glaring at the guards. The men looked at each other and chuckled. They each grabbed on of Hamish's arms and began to drag him down the corridor. He struggled for a few moments but soon relented. _

_They took him to a large room at the back of the prison compound. They stopped in the middle of the room. Hamish looked around at its stone walls. No windows. He hated rooms like this with no windows. There was a large rack chained to the north wall with chains attached to it and a braided, leather bull whip hanging off the end. On the south wall was a large painting of a strange bird, possibly some type of vulture. There was nothing on the east wall, except for the door through which they entered. There was another door at the west wall. _

_The air was thick in the room and Hamish was becoming anxious. The guards could feel the young man's arm muscles starting to tense. They grinned at each other._

_"Ya scared, boy?" the one on his left said._

_"Should I be?" Hamish replied, looking back at him._

_They glared at him._

_'Besides,' he thought, 'it's the waiting around that kills me.'_

_The door at the west wall opened and another guard, one that Hamish knew, stepped out. "Bring 'im in," he said, averting his eyes from Hamish._

_'This is gonna be interesting,' he thought as the guards pushed him towards the door._

_Through the door was a small room. The guards shoved him through and closed the door. The guard that had called him in was standing on the right of a desk. On the left stood Mr. Moss; he looked at Hamish and sighed. Behind the desk sat the chief warden, the head of Zartacla Prison._

_"Well, well," the chief warden began, "looks like my suspicions were correct. Now, Son, I'm gonna give you a choice," he drawled. "I don't like havin' to 'punish' my employees. I like to reserve that for the prisoners._

_"Now, I can be a merciful man…but whether or not I show such clemency is up to you. I know what you've been up to. And if it were not for that minor distraction in that boy and his pet, you're hide would've welcomed that blacksnake months ago. And now with all that over with, I'd be more than happy to take that whip to your back." _

_Hamish stared at him as he spoke, not uttering a sound._

_"Howevah," the chief warden continued, "because Mr. Moss has put in such a good word for ya, I'm gonna offer ya a proposition."_

_"And what might that be, Sir?" Hamish said, his green eyes boring holes into the man behind the desk._

_The man leaned back in his chair. "You tell me who yer workin' for and what exactly they want and I let you go free with all the money you need ta support that little 'family' of yours."_

_Hamish stiffened. "And if I refuse?"_

_"Son, you ever felt the sting of a braided whip on your bare skin? Have you ever experienced the slicing of your flesh from dozens of tiny, razor-sharp stones?"_

_"Now Hamish, Son, think before you answer," Mr. Moss said_

_The red-haired man looked over at his former boss. "Sorry, Sir. But I cain't betray them. I ain't no sell-out."_

_The chief warden grinned. "The honor of a Sky Knight never dies, even when he chooses to recant his knighthood."_

_Mr. Moss looked over at the guard, who had remained silent, shocked at the revelation. 'A Sky Knight?' the warden thought. 'That boy?'_

_"Very well," the chief warden said. "Honor does deserve reward."_

_The two guards that had brought Hamish in stood on the other side of the door, talking to each other. The door opened and the guard stepped out. Hamish then stepped out, barefoot and shirtless, followed by Mr. Moss and the chief warden. The two guards stood still as the other guard, Hamish, and Mr. Moss walked past. The chief warden stopped in front of the two guards._

_"Should we get the 'rack' ready, Sir?" one asked._

_"No," the chief warden replied. "We won't be needin' it. The boy ain't stupid."_

_The two guards looked at each other as the chief warden walked away, wondering what he meant._

_"So Ben," Hamish said to the guard walking in front of him, "you gonna crack the whip?"_

_Ben didn't answer. He knew Hamish was being facetious, trying to make light of the situation, but he wasn't amused._

_The chief warden looked back at the guards at the door. "Your services are no longer needed here. Return to your posts." The guards immediately left without question. "You, too, Ben."_

_"Yes, Sir."_

_Ben hurried out, leaving Hamish alone with Mr. Moss and the chief warden. The man walked over to the rack and grabbed the whip. Mr. Moss looked at Hamish._

_"Now Son, I—"_

_"Ferget it. It's not worth the effort."_

_The chief warden placed his hand on Hamish's shoulder. A chill ran down the redhead's spine._

_"Let's go, Son." As they walked out of the room, the chief warden turned to Moss. "Mr. Moss, I'd much appreciate it if you would return to your duties."_

_Mr. Moss opened his mouth to protest, but a glare from the chief warden made him quickly recant. Hamish looked back at him._

_"I'm Sorry, Hamish," he said and walked away._

_Hamish watched as Mr. Moss walked away. He sighed heavily and turned back around. The chief warden placed his hand on Hamish's shoulder and pushed him forward. They walked in silence down the corridor, the clacking of the chief warden's boots on the stone floor the only sound. The corridor forked at the end and they turned right. At the end were double doors; standing in front of the doors were two guards, guards that Hamish knew well._

_"So…did ya guys wake up with hangovers?" Hamish said nonchalantly._

_They didn't answer. They only looked at him with sorrowful eyes, apologizing for the previous night's events._

_"Don't be sorry," he said. "It's my fault, anyway."_

_"Kearney! Brant!" the chief warden barked. "Git it ready."_

_They headed through the doors, which led to the outside, with Hamish and the chief following a few minutes later. The setup was like a large back porch. The ground was laid with white-marbled, polished stone; there were two massive wooden pillars at either end of the portico, holding up the ends of the metal awning. At the opposite end (from the doors) was a short, wood post; the two guards were standing on either side of it._

_The chief warden led him to the post. There was a hole in the post with a rope running through and around the hole. Hamish was forced to his knees._

_"You have a chance to change your mind, Son," the chief warden offered._

_"No," Hamish replied. "I stand by my choice."_

_"Very well." The chief warden looked at the guards. "Tie 'im."_

_The two men took Hamish's hands and bound them to the post while the chief warden readied the whip. After the rope was pulled taut and tied, the one named Kearney spoke._

_"Look, Hamish, we're sor—"_

_"I told ya not ta be," he replied. "Ya jus' do what ya hafta do." He looked at Kearney. "Right?" He looked at Brant._

_"Yeah, sure," Brant replied sotto voce._

_The chief warden cracked the whip, striking the ground. A loud snapping sound resonated through the air. The two guards backed away._

_"I'm sorry ta hafta do this, Son," the chief warden said. "But like I said, honor does deserve reward."_

_Hamish rested his forehead on the post and braced himself for the first strike. The whip came cracking down on his back, ripping his skin. Tiny, razor-sharp pieces of obsidian had been woven into the braided whip. His body jerked, but he remained silent. The whip came down on his back again. The sound of leather striking flesh echoed through the air. The third strike came down, tearing his flesh more; but Hamish still remained silent. Each strike became harder, shredding his skin, splattering blood into his hair and all around him. His body jerked violently with every pass as the blood flowed down his back. Thirty times the whip came down on his back, but only low grunts escaped his lips._

_"Untie 'im," the chief warden said, letting the whip fall to his side._

_Kearney and Brant walked over to him. There wasn't a spot on his back that wasn't cut or bloody. They both knelt down beside him. His body was trembling and his breathing was ragged. They carefully untied his hands. Brant looked at his face as his left arm dropped to his side. The guard's face fell._

_"Kearney," Brant said softly._

_"What?"_

_Brant gestured towards Hamish's face. Kearney looked at him. There were tears streaming down the former animal-handler's cheeks. _

_Kearney placed his hand on the back of Hamish's head. "Hamish…?"_

_He slowly turned his head towards the guard._

_"Git 'im to his feet," the chief warden barked._

_The two guards gently pulled Hamish to his feet. His legs were so shaky he could barely stand. They tried to talk to him, but few words would come. They soon heard footsteps coming toward them. Brant looked up. Two guards were standing by the chief warden; two he didn't recognize. _

_"What's goin' on?" he whispered to Kearney, who had since glanced up at the two guards._

_"I don't know," he replied. "But it cain't be good."_

_"It's not over yet," Hamish said, inhaling sharply._

_The two men looked at him. "What?"_

_"Kearney! Brant!" the chief warden barked. "You're dismissed!" The two men stared at him. "Move!"_

_They carefully let go of their friend and quickly walked away, glancing back as they did._

_The chief warden, along with the two knew guards, approached the now-shivering Hamish. The temperature had been dropping quickly. He couldn't see his breath, but he could feel the cold nipping at him, especially at his wounds. _

_"Gettin' cold, Son," the chief warden asked._

_Hamish said nothing. He glared at the man; his eyes boring holes into him._

_"Reid! Colton!" He paused for a moment as if contemplating his next move. "Chain 'im."_

_The two guards grabbed Hamish, pulling him violently over to the wall and slamming him into it. His back hit the cold, stone wall with a loud thud. He cried out in pain. Their actions toward him were the complete opposite of Brant and Kearney's and far more violent than the first two guards. _

_There were two sets of shackles on the wall. The pair at the base was attached to his ankles. The second pair, which was attached to his wrist, was attached to long chains hanging from metal poles set between the roof and awning. As soon as he was shackled properly and securely, the two guards, Reid and Colton, backed away, sadistic grins on both their faces. _

_The chief warden unraveled the whip with a loud crack. Hamish took a deep breath and closed his eyes, just as the first strike ripped across his torso. Unlike his first lashing, Hamish could not hold back his cries of pain. The sound of the whip ripping across his flesh echoed through the cold night air. He opened his eyes after the whip hit him for the—he didn't know how many times he had been struck. Everything was blurry and the only sound that met his ears was that of his own ragged breathing. But soon, even that would be silenced. He felt his body jerk violently as the whip struck him again. Blood splattered back at the chief warden. Hamish felt his heart pounding, ready to burst out of his chest. He could feel his blood pooling at his feet. He slowly lifted his head to look at his torturer, but all he saw was a black blur coming towards him. And then…._

* * *

_It seemed as though the cell door groaned louder when you tried to open it slowly; the slower the door was opened, the louder the groan. However, such groaning didn't faze Hamish on bit. He was too weak, too sore, too tired to care. _

_He had been returned to his cell two days earlier after spending nearly six weeks in the infirmary. He had had only one thing on his mind during that time. And fortunately, he still had friends on the inside to make sure that it was taken care of. For as many times he had been whacked upside the head for saying something stupid or doing something wrong, Mr. Moss was on his side; he was his friend. And he knew he had friends in Kearney and Brant. _

_"Hamish…. Hamish…." Kearney tapped him on the back of the head._

_"What…?"he replied groggily._

_"Come on," the other man said softly. "Ya need ta git up an' git dressed."_

_"Why? What's goin' on?"_

_Kearney placed his hands on Hamish's sides, gently pulling him up into a sitting position. It may have been a month since the whip had met his flesh, but Hamish was still bandaged and sore. All of his wounds had not yet healed completely. _

_"Jus' come on," Kearney said._

_Hamish got dressed as quickly as he could and quietly and swiftly followed Kearney out of the prison and into the forest. The former animal-handler couldn't believe they had made it out of the prison without tripping any alarms. The only way that would happen (with the chief warden being gone) was if—_

_"Dang, Kearney! Slow down!" Hamish shouted as they ran through the forest. "Where're we goin'?"_

_"McClellan Peak!"_

_"McClellan Peak?"_

_"Hurry up, Hamish!"_

_"I'm hurryin'!"_

_They ran through the forest dodging rocks, trees, and a large variety of animals. After miles of running, Kearney finally began to slow down, first to a jog, then to a walk. Hamish caught up with him, but after only a few steps he collapsed. _

_"I cain't go anymore," Hamish breathed. "I'm too tired."_

_Kearney knelt down beside him. "I know. So'm I. But we hafta keep goin'." He helped Hamish to his feet and put the redhead's arm around his shoulders. "Come on."_

_After another ten-plus miles they finally reached McClellan Peak. "Good. They're here," Kearney said._

_"Who's here?" Hamish said, looking up. "Brant. Mr. Moss?"_

_"Howdy, Son," Mr. Moss said, tipping his hat. "What took ya so long?"_

_Hamish pursed his lips. "What's goin' on? Why do ya got yer sky-ride out here?"_

_"'Cause yer gittin' outta here, Son," the warden replied._

_"Huh? Whadda ya mean?"_

_"Jus' what I said. Yer gittin' outta here."_

_Hamish walked over to Mr. Moss. "I don't git it."_

_"Just git on, Son."_

_He did as he was told and said, "But what about—" _

_"Don't worry 'bout us. Now go."_

_Hamish started the heli-scooter and looked around at all three of them. "Thank you."_

_Mr. Moss smacked him upside the head with his hat. "Git movin', Boy." Hamish grinned as Mr. Moss put his hat back on. "Go…."_

_Hamish took one last look at his friends and rode off. As he took to the air, he glanced back. He sighed, wondering if he'd ever see them again._

* * *

Hamish's eyes fluttered open. As his eyes focused, he realized he was still in the sitting room, reclined at the end of the couch. _Why do my legs feel so heavy?_ He looked down and immediately turned red. Starling was lying across his lap (her head was on a pillow, but still…) and she was fast asleep. _Great…._ He didn't have the heart to wake her up. And if he tried to pick her up…. He sighed. _Oh, well. Here goes nothin'._

He slipped one arm under her legs and the other underneath her upper back, pulling her up against his chest. He pushed the footrest down and slowly stood up. He could feel her warm breath on his bare skin. His heart began to beat faster. He prayed he wouldn't get so nervous he'd drop her. _Man, I'm makin' m'self nervous jus' thinkin' about it._

He stepped into one of the rooms. Realizing he had walked into his own room, his face flushed bright red. He let out a puff of air. No matter what, this was going be embarrassing. Oh, well. It wouldn't be the first time.

He laid her down in the bed and pulled the covers up over her. He watched her as she turned onto her side; a smile appeared on his face. He scrunched up his nose.

"You'd better not be fakin' all this," he said, turning to walk out.

He heard her sigh. He sighed himself and then walked out and into the room across the hall. He collapsed onto the bed and looked at the calendar on the wall; tomorrow's date was circled and written in the box….Hamish's eyes widened in horror.

"Oh, no, no, no…. Not tomorrow…." He rolled over onto his back, covering his face with his hands. "This ain't good…."

* * *

And there it is. I didn't give the chief warden a name because you already know who it is and he'll be back. And he is an oc. If you're paying attention, I changed Hamish's hair color. I had forgotten what color it was when I wrote the last chapter. I refer to him as having red hair, which technically, though not blatantly red like Aerrow's, is true. That's an unimportant detail, but whatever.

Please review. I worked really long and hard on this. Thanks.


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